


The Calamity In Our Hearts

by SlytherinHowl



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Auror Jorah, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Dark(ish) Daenerys, Dragon Keeper Daenerys, Dragons, F/M, Lovers to Enemies to Lovers Again, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, She Is Just Angry, Slow Burn, The Calamity - Freeform, Video Game: Harry Potter: Wizards Unite, Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-28 09:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20061772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinHowl/pseuds/SlytherinHowl
Summary: The Wizarding World is absolutely shocked as the Calamity unfolds. When Drogon the Hungarian Horntail is taken from the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, dragonologist Daenerys Targaryen and auror Jorah Mormont must navigate around their difficult past and their conflicted feelings for one another to bring him home. Will they once more find a home in each other or will this adventure only bring them further apart?





	1. Stolen

**Author's Note:**

> Since I've been enjoying Wizards Unite, I decided to put my extensive knowledge of Harry Potter lore to good use and this fic came about. It is a GoT fic in a Harry Potter setting, but I'll try to include as many Potter characters as I can. I have no idea how many chapters this will last, but I've got an outline planned for the story and so far I'm quite pleased with it. To my JorahxDany crew: if you're not too familiar with Harry Potter, I'll be happy to explain things to you, but I think that the most important elements will be clear. This will be a bit wilder than _Ferris-Wheels and Plush Toys_ and less fluffy, but JxD is my endgame and for as long as I write for this ship they'll always be together. After all this time? Always.

The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary is the largest specialized dragon conservation area in the entire world. It brings together dragonologists from different countries to study, understand and give the majestic beasts an environment where they would be safe and comfortable, while still enforcing the International Statute of Secrecy. Dragons are highly territorial animals, so the dragonologists there managed to divide the land in several magical habitats where fewer dragons could live peacefully. They had Newt Scamander and his illegal expansion charms to thank for that idea. The particular habitat of our interest had two very unique things about it. First, it was the home of a very large, very aggressive Hungarian Horntail, a relatively quiet Peruvian Vipertooth and a sweet (to a dragon’s standard) Common Welsh Green. Those three breeds would never be able to live together without tearing at each other's’ throats if not for the second unique thing of this habitat: a fierce witch named Daenerys Targaryen, who the three fearsome beasts saw as their mummy since they were hatchlings. She gave them strong, fear-inspiring names - Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal- but neither inspired any of those feelings on her. She lived happily, sort of, with her children in a shack on a hill within the property, away from wizardkind, with the exception of Charlie Weasley who eventually came to visit her from his shack near the Head Office of the Sanctuary. That peaceful existence, however, was about to change. 

“Rhaegal, _friend_, not _food!_” Daenerys shouted to the Common Welsh Green who tried to eat the Eagle Owl that carried the Daily Prophet in its claw. She left England many years ago, but she still kept a weekly subscription of the paper to see what those idiots at the Ministry were doing. Even as a proud Slytherin, Daenerys admitted that Granger wasn’t a bad choice for a Minister, but the Gryffindor witch was unfortunately surrounded by careerist idiots, so there was always room for worry. 

Rhaegal, the silly thing, tried again to nip at the owl, but his neck couldn’t reach it. The scared bird flew to Daenerys and extended its leg for her to place the three knuts in a small pouch it had. The headline read “_Department of Magical Law Enforcement begins doubling its efforts to contain the Calamity._” Daenerys laughed bitterly as she skimmed the article. Lies and half-truths were all she could find. It was amazing how the Daily Prophet just couldn’t help but kiss the Ministry’s arse, fuck up after fuck up. Daenerys heard rumours from very reliable inside sources about the beginning of the calamity and she was damn sure that if someone was to blame for the situation it was the Ministry itself. 

“So they’ll start doubling the efforts _now_, after the Statute of Secrecy has been endangered? Incompetent twats,” Daenerys scoffed. She did and all the dragonologists at the Sanctuary did their job in keeping the reserve well protected and they weren’t even law enforcers. If the Aurors of the British Ministry - and indirectly the Aurors from all over the world - couldn’t do their jobs, maybe it was time to rethink their position in wizarding society. 

She closed the paper and returned her attention to her dragons. It amused Daenerys to no end how her three children, such fearsome beasts to most wizards and muggles alike, behaved so much like dogs around her. Rhaegal often forgot he had wings and breathed fire when she played fetch with him, standing on his hind legs or running after the branches she sent flying his way. Viserion always let Daenerys take good care of his teeth, especially of the venomous fang he had, and in return, he flopped down next to his mum and she scratched his belly for hours. Drogon, well, Drogon didn’t know he wasn’t a hatchling anymore. He jumped on his mum and almost crushed her every time, but the blonde witch never tried to push her Hungarian Horntail off of her, for he needed her the most. 

Most wizards think that dragons are vicious, terrifying beasts, but to her, they were just her children. Rumour was that her ancestor Aegon Targaryen, a powerful wizard who lived in the Byzantine Empire, performed a dark ritual to bind himself and his two sister-wives to three dragons. Daenerys didn’t know if the rumour was true or not, but she had an enormous affinity for the beasts and for anything related to fire. Her brother Viserys died because of fire, so she couldn’t tell if it was a Targaryen ability passed on generation after generation of incestuous marriages or if she truly was the blood of the dragon, as some people liked to call her. Either way, she was well aware that her children were absolutely feral with every person that wasn’t her, Charlie Weasley and one of her ex-boyfriends (she had told them they could bite the Scottish Auror’s head off if he ever showed up in the Sanctuary again, but whenever he did try to win her back all three dragons happily flopped down to the floor for him to pet them. She didn’t want to think about how much she still wanted him to pet her) but Daenerys and the aforementioned ex, of whom she would rather not talk about, rescued them from a dragon dealer when they were still eggs and the three usually obeyed their mother wonderfully, even though Viserion insisted on gnawing on a tree branch in spite of Daenerys telling him not to. She heard the branch snap in half and Viserion let out a pained growl. She sprung to her feet and ran towards her child. 

“Open your mouth,” Daenerys commanded and Viserion dutifully obeyed. There were splinters of different sizes littering his mouth. Some of them seemed to be buried deeply in his gums in a way that she wouldn’t be able to remove them even with tweezers, “for Circe’s sake, Viserion, how did you manage to do that?” 

She sucked in a breath and stroked his snout as she got her scale-remover from her belt. It was a curved dagger made of obsidian with a silver handle adorned with a carving of a bear paw, which she kept hidden under wraps to avoid thinking about a certain someone. She thought about throwing it away a few times in the twelve years since she broke up with him, but she couldn’t, much to her chagrin. The tool was usually made for removing dead scales that could cause infections on the dragon’s skin, but Daenerys had found that it was a pretty multi-use tool. She used it to chop meat for the dragons, to remove plaque from their teeth, to groom them and possibly to perform a small removal surgery in their gums, as soon as she gathered the courage to do it. 

“Accio gloves, Accio tweezers, Accio numbing ointment!” she flicked her wand three times and waited until the items came flying to her from her hut. Daenerys put on her erumpent hide gloves and rubbed the ointment on Viserion’s gums, examining the area carefully. She waited a while for the magical effect to kick in and rubbed his snout affectionately again, “don’t do it again, you silly thing.” 

She first removed the bigger splinters with the tweezers and when she got to the ones that were buried deep, she made small incisions near them with her dagger and managed to get them out. Daenerys fished some powdered dittany from her pocket and applied it to his tender flesh to close the wounds and stop the bleeding. She absentmindedly cleaned her dagger on the hem of her robe, making a mental note to boil it with a bezoar later to get the poison out of the blade. Daenerys patted Viserion for a while before going back inside her hut to sort some things out. Her peace was interrupted when she heard her dragons stomping the ground and growling. She left her hut again to find out what was wrong with a very distressed Rhaegal. Viserion seemed calmer than his green brother, but he whipped his tail around in a way that wasn’t good. Drogon was nowhere to be seen. 

“What is it?” she asked her children worriedly. Rhaegal roared and stomped some more, “where’s Drogon?” 

If Rhaegal could speak he would have told his mother that one moment Drogon and him were playing amicably with a goat carcass and the next Drogon was suddenly taken by a strange kind of magic, disappearing with a flash of light, but the dragon can only shriek at his mother and nod to where he was playing with his brother. Daenerys did understand from his strange behaviour that something was very wrong, so she followed his lead. They looked for Drogon all afternoon, yet there was no sign of him in his territory. Daenerys even ventured in neighbouring habitats, to no avail. She was worried sick by the time night fell and the sight of a fidgeting Charlie Weasley at her doorstep did nothing to calm her nerves. 

“Charlie, Drogon is missing!” Daenerys whimpered to her friend, suddenly feeling robbed of all her strength and confidence. She would never forgive herself if something happened to her child. 

“I know, Daenerys. I was rounding the perimeter of the Sanctuary on my broom and the defensive spells on your area were wavering. I noticed something like a black fog surrounding Drogon and Rhaegal and when I landed only Rhaegal was there,” the ginger wizard said with a saddened grimace. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Daenerys almost shouted as she fought back her tears. She didn’t mean to be rude to Charlie, he was a good friend, but desperation took hold of her and tore at her flesh like knives. 

“I’ve been looking for both of you all afternoon!” Daenerys swayed on her feet as a rush of dizziness overcame her. Charlie steadied her and carefully wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders. He wasn’t a fan of hugs, but the second oldest Weasley had not seen nor felt anything as dark as that fog since his curse-breaking adventures at Hogwarts and he felt like he, too, needed the support as much as his fellow dragon keeper. Daenerys clawed at his back as she sobbed and mumbled incoherently. After a while of awkwardly patting her on the back, Charlie spoke again, “do you think this has anything to do with the Calamity?’ 

Daenerys stiffened and left his embrace. Her face had turned to stone and her violet eyes burned hot and cold at the same time. They had been working together for almost twelve years and Daenerys still scared the hell out of Charlie sometimes. She liked the Weasley man, but it usually hurt her to know that he, like everybody else, thought she was mad. At that moment, however, she didn’t even notice him standing there, too consumed by her anger and sadness. She had to find Drogon, and when she did, she had to burn the British Ministry of Magic to the ground.


	2. Violet Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her eyes were still as stunning as he remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait until around Thursday to post this but I finished it way earlier than I thought and if I don't post it now I'm gonna delete everything and start all over again because that's what I do :P.   
I could have swapped Merula Snyde for Tyrion Lannister in this chapter, but I wanted to have a go at writing my favourite disaster lesbian from my favourite disaster game (Hogwarts Mystery. She starts off as female Draco Malfoy but she becomes likeable as the game progresses). From this chapter on, we're diving into angsty Jorleesi territory. Harry and Ginny might make other appearances as I am bent on actually liking Harry as a character, so he'll be the good (if slightly impatient and snappy) cop.  
I'll try to mix the POVs, but since I've been mostly writing Daenerys POVs since I became active in this fandom (my first Jorleesi fic is about a year old now! It's not spectacular, but I'm very fond of it) I'm not sure if I'll get Jorah right. I also hope my Harry and Ginny are ok, but they're not my main concern, our dragon and bear are. Please tell me what you think!

A relieved sigh escaped Jorah Mormont’s lips when he sank down on his chair in the big office designated for all the Aurors in the Statute of Secrecy Task Force. He was thankfully alone with all the other Aurors off hunting for rogue bludgers and misplaced Hogwarts students, which gave him a few moments to close his eyes and relax. The man was absolutely exhausted. Hunting for tidbits of the magical world among muggles was wearing him thin. If he had to capture another disgusting flobberworm in the middle of Trafalgar Square and then proceed to wipe out the memories of all the damn tourists he would throw a fit. No, he wouldn’t, but the intention would be there. Jorah still couldn’t believe a boy as sweet as Grim Fawley was probably the mind behind all the chaos that the Calamity has been causing. Objects, creatures, people, memories, all sorts of magical things were suddenly taken from their respective places and thrown out into the muggle world. What did Fawley want with that? To destroy the wizarding world and its institutions? To get generalized revenge? To create a new Salem? Jorah didn’t know and he honestly didn’t care anymore, all the Scottish Auror wanted was to sleep after being on call all weekend. He was secretly relieved that Constance Pickering gave him paperwork duty for that day and the next. 

When Jorah first joined the Auror department as a young Hogwarts graduate in 1981 he wanted the thrill and the glory of purging the world of dark wizards. He wanted to be on the streets protecting the community and most importantly, he wanted to please his father. The Jorah of 2019, with all he’s seen and done in almost forty years of service, scoffed at how naïve and blind he used to be. The Ministry has a way of sucking the soul out of a man that would put a dementor to shame. Years of dutiful work were completely ignored, but the one time during the second war when he fucked up and abandoned his position to keep Lynesse safe was still remembered in the department with evil fondness. He had to crawl back to the Ministry and beg to be reinstated as an Auror, to what good? Lynesse left him anyway when she realised she was no longer in danger for being from a family of dark wizards, his father disowned him for his cowardice and in the end he was forced to spy on a person, only to fall head over heels in love with her and face her wrath when she found out. All of this to be thrown back into the shitstorm that was working at the Ministry. 

“Mormont! Hey, Mormont, did you hear what I said?” Jorah opened his eyes in irritation to see Merula Snyde leaning on the wall of his cubicle. Her usually smug expression was replaced by one of displeasure. 

“What?” he asked tiredly. Jorah still wondered how a petty and often mean girl like Snyde ended up an Auror, but oh well, better an Auror than a Death Eater. 

“Potter,” she said disdainfully, “wants me to go on another round today even though I’ve been on call for twenty-four hours now.” 

“And what do I have to do with that?” he grunted, avoiding her eyes. Merula’s eyes were deep violet, but not the violet he’d been missing in the past twelve years.

“You haven’t had Task Force duty since Monday,” she hinted. Damn Slytherins, always beating around the bush. Both of them knew what she wanted, why couldn’t she just say it, for Merlin’s sake! 

“I’m not doing this round for you.” 

“I’ll pay you, Mormont, I’ll give you anything! I’ll get you your dragon girl back if that’s what you want, just please don’t make me look for any more foundables today. I had to chase Severus Snape in South London. Do you have any idea how fucking distressing it is to see you _dead_ professor in muggle Brixton? And don’t get me started on those confoundables spells, such a pain in the arse,” she rambled on, yet he only half-listened. His chest tightened when she mentioned getting his Daenerys back. She would never return to him unless Merula drugged her with Amortentia, which would be unacceptable. 

“I know what it’s like to return those foundables, Merula, because we’re on the same fucking team,” he said between gritted teeth and she shot him an angry glare. 

Their banter would have continued if Ginny Weasley-Potter hadn’t dragged her exhausted husband into the room. Harry Potter looked every inch the overworked Ministry official. His hair was even more disheveled than usual and there were dark bags under his green eyes. Ginny, a founding member of the Voluntary Task Force, wasn’t as burnt out as her husband, but the work was taking its toll on the woman too. 

“Come on, Harry, grab your cloak and let’s get the hell out of here. Mum made that wellington you like.” 

“Sure, honey. I’ll just skim over the memos on my desk and we’ll be off,” he said, rubbing his stubbly face. 

“It’s your birthday, Harry! We have barely slept in the last 72 hours, the kids are missing you, no one will care if you have lunch at your mother-in-law’s house on _your fucking birthday!_” Ginny scolded her husband. 

“You’re right, honey, you’re right,” a ghost of a smile graced his lips and his vivid green eyes shone affectionately at his wife, “it’s hard to wind back these days.” 

“Who’d guess that the same Harry Potter who copied off Mione’s homework would become the most hardworking man in this office!” Ginny joked, messing with her husband’s hair fondly. 

“Harry,” Jorah said with a chuckle, “go with Ginny, enjoy your lunch and rest. Merula here is going on patrol today but I’ll be here doing paperwork. If hell breaks loose I can help.” 

Harry was about to thank Jorah for that when hell made woman burst into the room with fire in her eyes. Daenerys Stormborn strode in looking wildly powerful and beautiful. Jorah felt goosebumps down his back and he slid further in his chair to avoid being seen by her. He felt pangs of sadness and longing as he watched the unbraided sections of her hair flowing behind her back. _She used to love it when I braided her hair_. Merula snickered beside him and he wanted to hex her mouth shut. Harry scrunched up his face in confusion while Ginny’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Daenerys,” Ginny said gingerly and offered her hand. The silver-haired woman took it somewhat tensely and shook it with more force than necessary. The two witches knew each other from Hogwarts, but the most they had ever interacted was when Professor Slughorn forced Daenerys to visit Ginny in the Hospital Wing to apologize for throwing her out of her broom in a Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match on Daenerys’ fourth year. 

“You’re Daenerys Targaryen?” Harry asked. He had heard crazy stories about the Targaryens and he knew that this one in particular could make grown men want to hide behind their mothers (or their cubicles), but as far as he knew she wasn’t involved with dark magic. He shot a glance at Jorah Mormont, but the older Auror seemed absorbed in his stack of files. 

“And you’re the man who should be solving this disaster,” she sneered and pointed to a copy of the same edition of the Daily Prophet she had received one day earlier. Jorah knew she was seething and the only thing that could make her feel like that, besides finding out that he was spying on her, was harm coming her dragons’ way. If one of them had disappeared in the Calamity, the entire Ministry would feel her wrath. 

“I _am_,” Harry answered in a matching tone, his green eyes suddenly as hard as her violet ones. 

“Can you explain to me why it seems to be getting worse? Can you explain why a dragon has disappeared from the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, one of the safest places in the whole wizarding world? If your efforts have been doubled and you are working in tandem with wizarding institutions from all over the world, _why did the Romanian Aurors look at me as if I was mad when I told them Drogon was missing?_” her voice got angrier and angrier with each question. She looked like one of her dragons, ready to roast Harry Potter to the ground. Jorah wanted to reach out and hug her, calm her, assure her Drogon would be found, but painful memories flooded his mind. _Don’t ever presume to touch me again or speak my name_. 

“_Maybe because you are mad_.” Harry thought bitterly, but he knew he couldn’t take her bait. He could almost hear Professor Dumbledore’s voice telling him that patience and calmness were virtues to be pursued. 

“Calm down, Daenerys!” Ginny all but shouted, placing herself between the smaller witch and her husband. 

“Calm down, Ginny? How do you expect me to be calm? My child disappeared! Your brother was there! He saw! If you think I’m lying you can ask him!” Daenerys shouted back, losing whatever was left of her patience. 

“We’re not saying you’re lying, Daenerys! All we want is for you to calm the fuck down and explain what happened without throwing unfair accusations around!” Ginny said, exasperated. 

“On one hand, dealing with Daenerys is probably infernal. On the other, shagging her must be quite and experience, Mormont,” Merula whispered in Jorah’s ear, winking at him lewdly. He felt his own anger bubbling up inside his chest. 

‘One more word and I’ll hex you, Snyde.” 

“Ah yes, the Mormont way of dealing with things. Tyrion Lannister did warn me about you,” her mention of his fellow Ministry employee only made him angrier, but Jorah decided that listening to Daenerys’ conversation with Harry and Ginny was better than paying attention to Merula.

“Drogon disappeared. Poof. Gone,” she spoke slowly and clearly and made wide gestures with her hands as if she was talking to a child, “it has to be related to this Calamity of yours.” 

“Ok, listen, _the Calamity is not ours_. We don’t know how it happened, we don’t know who’s behind it and we certainly didn’t want it to happen,” Harry snapped, but Ginny’s reassuring hand on his wrist made him take a deep breath and lower his voice, “having a dragon out on the loose somewhere is big threat, I agree, but there’s not much we can do besides notifying the Task Force Aurors of the situation. We don’t know where he is, Daenerys.” 

“We could use the map, Harry,” Ginny suggested, squeezing his hand. She knew that turning Daenerys down would be trouble for them, so Ginny thought that they might as well help her so that they could get rid of the very angry dragonologist fast. 

“What map?” Daenerys demanded. 

“We’re trying to develop a map to track foundables, but they’re all faulty and often lead us to dead ends. It’ll take time before the squadrons can use them.” 

“I’ll take it, faulty or not. I need to find Drogon.” 

“You can’t take it,” Harry replied irritably, “it’s Ministry material. Only Aurors can use them. Not even Ginny has access to one yet and she’s in the Voluntary Task Force.” 

“Then come with me, Potter. Or do you really want an angry Hungarian Horntail setting cities ablaze?” Daenerys said, a veiled threat in her voice. If there was one thing that Harry could gauge out from her was that she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. 

“I’m Head of the Department, I can’t leave to go looking for your dragon!” Harry said. Daenerys’ nostrils flared up at his disdain. 

“You were about to leave,” Daenerys said in a low, dangerous tone. 

“It’s his fucking birthday!” Ginny intervened indignantly. Harry rubbed his face roughly and looked around for a solution, then his eyes fell on where Jorah and Merula were half-hidden behind their cubicles. 

“Are you two free today? Maybe you could accompany Ms. Targaryen here on her mission and see if the map decides to work.” 

Daenerys whipped her head and her eyes fell on Jorah’s azure ones for the first time in a few years. Her beautiful face was a furious stony mask, but when she looked at him her eyes betrayed her. Hurt. Longing. Regret. Jorah knew his eyes must have conveyed the same things. Harry and Ginny could almost feel the crackling energy in the air as soon as Jorah and Daenerys stared into each other’s eyes. Harry Potter wasn’t particularly observant of people’s emotions and reactions when younger. No, he used to focus on one thing and give all of him to achieve that goal while everything else sort of faded into the background. When he became an Auror, however, he had no choice but to learn to be constantly vigilant and aware of everything. He knew Jorah had spied on Daenerys and her crazy brother after the war, but he wasn’t sure how far their relationship had gone. Looking at the two of them, the black-haired wizard was pretty sure there was a lot of unresolved romantic tension between them. A glance at Ginny confirmed his suspicions. 

“Oh, Harry, I was _just_ leaving for my patrol today,” Merula said in a sickly sweet voice, looking at Jorah with evil glee, “_of course _ Daenerys’ problem is of great importance, but London is _swarming_ with foundables, we need all the help we can get here. I am _sure_ my _good friend_ Jorah will do a fantastic job on this case.” 

Before anyone could argue, Merula slid a piece of parchment on Jorah’s hand and sauntered off, looking extremely pleased with herself. He broke Daenerys’ gaze quickly to read her note. “_You’ll thank me later_” was all it said. 

“Well then, Jorah is the only one available at the moment,” Ginny said, trying to hide her knowing smile. 

“No,” Daenerys said resolutely, masking her real feelings. Jorah felt his stomach drop. 

“No Auror, no map,” Harry said tiredly, looking at his watch, “there’s one squadron that will finish a search and capture mission in Wales in about a week. You can wait and talk to them. Maybe in the meantime we’ll get news of Drogon.” 

“Maybe in the meantime he will have gotten killed by hordes of frenzied muggles!” she shot Jorah another glance, this time far angrier than before, “isn’t there anything else you can do?” 

“Not right now, no.” 

Jorah felt as if every muscle in his body was giving in under his weight. When she first looked at him, a tiny spark of hope lit up in him. Maybe they could talk, maybe this time she would listen to him. Maybe he could tell her he was sorry instead of trying to defend his actions. Maybe he would at least help her find her child and see her bright smile again, a smile that was constantly in his dreams in those twelve years, but her enraged countenance towards him and the resolution in her voice when she told Harry she didn’t want him near her was yet another blow to a shattered heart. He hadn’t moved on and he never would. Jorah never loved anyone as deeply as he loved Daenerys and he would gladly get a dementor’s kiss if it meant she would forgive him. Daenerys didn’t seem too willing to, however; she let out a frustrated growl and pierced him with her wild stare again. 

“Fine. I need to find Drogon fast and if _he_ is all I have, so be it.” 

“Okay,” Harry said with a sigh, looking at Jorah with a bit of sympathy. He hadn’t been keen on leaving the office, but now all he wanted was Molly’s wellington and a few hours away from all that hippogriff crap. He fished for one the prototype maps on his drawer and gave it to Jorah with a pat to his shoulder, “the protocol remains the same, Jorah. Locate, subdue and return. I hope everything works out. You know what to do if things go pear-shaped.” 

Harry’s eyes were clearly saying _‘I don’t wanna do that to you, mate, but your ex is scary and I have enough problems of my own to deal with.’_ Both men nodded at each other and Jorah watched as Harry and Ginny left, shooting Daenerys wary glances. Jorah finally gathered some courage and approached Daenerys, stopping a few feet away from her. She looked majestic and gorgeous in her white and blue robes. He noticed with a pang of nostalgia that she still fastened her cloak with the dragon pin he had given her on her seventeenth birthday. The years hadn’t taken away her statuesque form and the alluring shimmer of her hair. She was still very young for a witch at 35 and even though Jorah was supposed to be in his prime at 55, he didn’t feel like it. Looking at her he felt older and more tired than ever. 

“What are you looking at, Mormont?” hearing her use his surname instead of his name or the nicknames she had for him sent a dagger through his heart, “we have to find Drogon.” 

“Right. Follow me,” he said, gesturing for the door. She crossed the room without looking at him and he sighed. Jorah Mormont wasn't a religious man, but if he was he would say the gods were playing a very tasteless prank on him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering the events of Hogwarts Mystery as part of the canon because I love that trainwreck of a game (not that anything HPHM is truly relevant here, but who knows, maybe a character or two from the game might pop up here)but not Cursed Child. CC is what I would write if I was trying to write a fanfic that made fun of every bad fanfiction trope ever, from nonsensical time-travel shenanigans to a character with colourful hair that reminds me of Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way more than she should.


End file.
